Chapter 26 - Hunter
I started running the moment the fear reached me through the bond, and it felt more like a lightning strike than a call for help.
It belonged to Tessa, and it reached me with the kind of clarity through the bond that can’t be faked.
It was unlike anything I had felt from her before.
Rather than bracing for a difficult situation, it was like she had been stopped dead in her tracks, and her wolf knew immediately that she needed help.
Having shifted mid-stride, I press through the trees with a renewed urgency while I rely on the invisible tether to guide me to her.
In the back of my mind, I reach the pack link and send out a rushed command for the others to fall in line, but I’m not waiting for any of them.
I know where she is, and a minute wasted could mean the unthinkable.
Taking the western trail towards the cliffside overlook, I can sense myself drawing closer with every movement.
The bond is a compass that only points toward her, so I follow its lead and force my way through the underbrush despite the wet ground that seems to punish me. Ignoring it, I don’t slow down.
Deeper into the woods, the lingering effects of the storm are more evident through tree roots that are still slick, along with the fallen branches and puddles that haven’t dried up yet. But it doesn’t matter as the forest blurs on either side of me.
I smell them before I see them.
Wraith Peak.
Their scent signatures are distinct, and I know them intimately now. There are too many for me to lock onto, but beneath them, I catch his again.
Ever since he first started causing problems on the island, I’ve been cataloging his scent, and now his specific blend of ambition and barely-controlled fury is too close to home. Far too close to my mate.
None of them is trying to be covert here. Instead, they’re spread out in the woods, obviously surrounding Hayes and Tessa without covering their scents.
All of this is deliberate, and all of it feels like Hayes’ final attempt at correcting the record.
But just like with Zane, he chose the wrong man to deal with.
Growling at several wolves around me, I watch as they move back, sinking into defensive stances and letting me pass.
I snap at one close to me, making it yelp before dashing away, then I break through the tree line and stop when I see Hayes at the center.
There’s a brawny man to his left, and several others in an arc that acts more like a border.
Tessa stands at the cliffside with the drop behind her, but despite that, she keeps her chin up and her spine straight.
The sight of her bravery is enough to both set me off and instill a sudden burst of pride in me.
Instead of cowering or surrendering to them, she’s putting on a brave face and standing her ground as any luna should.
Hayes turns toward me, and while his defenses certainly go up, he looks more like he’s been waiting for this than surprised.
“Reed.” He says, sounding too satisfied with how everything is panning out. He stands between Tessa and me with a smug look. “You’re faster than I expected.”
“Step away from her,” I say.
“Or?”
“That’s not how this goes,” I return, holding his gaze while barely keeping my rage beneath the surface. “Step away or you’ll regret not doing so.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. Instead, he’s calculating everything in real time and looking for the right points to exploit. He’s just like his father was before he let his own greed get the better of him.
“I came to talk about territory, and to see just how far you’ll go for this one here,” Hayes says, not at all concerned as he should be. “Maybe this will also be a good lesson in strengthening these soft borders of yours.”
“Tell me about soft borders while standing in the middle of my territory, and I’ll show you what soft looks like.”
He chuckles, then nods in Tessa’s direction. “That mate of yours… she’s brave, I’ll give her that. She stood there and told us to leave. I’m told your father did that once. He stood his ground too, but look where that got him.”
Even hearing Hayes remotely reference my dad sends a shockwave of blistering anger through me.
But that’s exactly what he wants. I know he wants the reckless, reactive kind of rage from me, just like most will try to lead with.
But I’ve seen what that does to people. Men like Hayes, who know they can’t win, poke at your emotions instead, making you lose focus and make sloppy moves while using their unpredictability to their advantage.
Hayes is good enough to know that he needs me off-balance to stand any kind of chance against me.
Instead, I keep my face as cold as I can. “You’ve lost before, and you’ll lose again.”
“But that’s just it. No matter how many times you and your friends think you can keep me down, I get back up.
I fight, because that’s what I was made to do.
I won’t submit,” he says, trying to conceal his buried frustration with a huffed laugh.
He grits his teeth, arms out while he postures. “Let’s go then… alpha against alpha.”
Hayes drops into the shift first, allowing it to take over in a ripple of fur.
A beat later, my wolf reacts directly, and I do the same. Loud and immediate, it consumes me, and the wet ground moves subtly under my paws.
In this state, the storm’s residue is everywhere, both refreshing and potentially hazardous.
Hayes comes in low and fast from the right with the first impact, hitting my shoulder before I’ve fully oriented to the change in vision.
He’s fast, but I store that away and focus on him right in front of me.
Some of the other men shift in response to the fight, and right now, he has the numbers. He has them to bolster him and to offer the kind of backup any alpha would want in a time like this.
But aside from wolves, the ground is the problem.
The storm has turned the cliffside into a mess with saturated topsoil and slick grass that I struggle to find traction in. Every step requires an adjustment that wouldn’t otherwise be necessary in normal circumstances.
All in all, preventing it from tripping me up takes more of my attention than I like, but I’m not the only one.
Hayes has to adapt, too, but he’s lighter than I am, and he’s using the terrain as best as he can. He cuts sharp angles across the drier patches near the trees and forces me into the slick central ground where I have less of an advantage.
It’s a smart play, but I catch on soon enough to adjust.
When I pull back to avoid him, I catch a thick root with my front right paw, and he’s on my flank before I’ve recovered. His teeth find the muscle along my shoulder with enough force to catch my attention, and I turn into it rather than away despite the pain.
Using the contact to change the angle, I leverage my own weight against him, throwing him off his feet. It gives me time to recover, but not enough to give me a significant advantage.
In my periphery, I catch Dominic breaking through the trees at top speed, already shifted, and he hits the nearest Wraith Peak wolf with full commitment. As they both feel the impact, the arc of the wolves surrounding Tessa has a gap.
More of mine come into play now, forcing the others back when they emerge through the trees and snarl to catch their attention. Some break into smaller fights, while others push their way in to disrupt their attempt to isolate Tessa.
But Hayes doesn’t even look. Instead, he keeps his full attention on me.
That’s what I keep noticing as we go. He hits with an anger that has no tactical purpose or learned skill. Instead, it’s brutal, relentless, and more like he’s racing to land the most impact before I can get the chance to truly retaliate.
Every impact from him carries something personal and uncontrolled, and I know immediately that it’s the wounded pride of a man who understands on some level that he might lose something he can’t get back. To save face, he’s channeling that understanding into pure forward pressure.
He has nothing left to lose but the title, and he fights like it.
Taking a hit to the ribcage that I’ll surely feel for a while, I turn it into the slightest advantage and come over his back with my full weight.
I drive him down into the saturated earth, feeling as the ground gives under us both.
The mud and roots make the grapple complicated, and neither of us has a secure footing.
Still, he twists with desperate strength, back legs driving against the roots, and the playing field becomes frustratingly even.
But all the while I push, I think about Tessa standing at the cliff edge with her spine straight; I think about what he said about my father, along with the image it invokes.
I think about families like Brooke’s who depend on me to win and keep our territory secure. Even about the quieter wolves who might’ve been thinking all along that I’m just the son who’s weaker than his father because I haven’t been tested in the right ways.
Regardless of what anyone thinks, or of the pressures pushing down on me, I have a mate waiting for me to end this, and one who just wants to go home.